Chapter Eighteen

The shed at the edge of the east garden had been used for a lot of things over the years. It had served as a chicken coop, a potting shed, tool storage--and, during some of Maricela’s more imaginative childhood years, the headquarters from which she planned dashing adventures on the high seas, where she would rule her crew of salty privateers at the point of a sword.

Now, it had been converted to a workshop. Nita spent so much time at the palace these days, working alongside Maricela, that she needed a place to store her equipment, and the old shed was perfect. It was close to the courtyard where they preferred to spend their time, but roomy enough for her to work in it if she chose. A space that was hers, away from the temple and her family’s home.

But, for once, she didn’t look happy to be there. Maricela watched her friend as she examined a line of freshly fired clay bowls, and finally spoke. “Are you all right?”

Nita cradled a bowl in her hands, her thumb working over the edge. “I’m wondering if it’s time to pack this place up. I don’t know if I’m coming back to stay at the temple.”

“That’s ridiculous.” So far, Nita’s mother had kept her close to home, claiming the need for support in a difficult time. But Estela Reyes was far too practical to pull her daughter out of prestigious service to the temple for too long. “She can’t keep you at home forever.”

“Can’t she?” Nita set down the bowl and sighed. “She only let me stay here for so long because she thought I had a chance at marrying a Rios. You saw the way she was all week, throwing me at your brother.”

Maricela wrinkled her nose. “We already knew she was delusional.”

“I know. If Gideon wanted a nubile young bride, he’d have one.” Nita turned to the next bowl and traced a crack along the side with her finger. “She doesn’t see the world as it is. She never has. And she wants all of us to conform to her vision.”

And why not? All her life, Estela had always gotten exactly what she wanted. “Some things never change, I suppose.”

“No, they don’t.” Nita finally met Maricela’s eyes and squared her shoulders, as if preparing for battle. “I talked to Alexei after you left. It’s not precisely what my mother imagined, but Alexei’s parents would pay a lot for a Reyes. I think Estela would come around. And Alexei is looking for the same thing I am. A pragmatic partner.”

Shock left Maricela standing there, blinking and confused. Nita had spoken before of giving in to her mother’s demands, but always as a vague potentiality, not a plan.

“And he’s rich,” she continued stubbornly, and Maricela couldn’t tell which one of them she was trying to convince. “Even if my mother refuses me my inheritance, he has so much money. He promised he’d set aside enough for me to provide for my sisters and brothers who want a different kind of life. I’ll be able to take care of them.”

Somewhere outside the shed, Ivan was waiting, watchful and observant but out of sight, giving them the illusion of privacy.

That wasn’t enough, not right now.

Maricela quickly closed the door and turned to Nita. “You can’t.”

“I have to,” Nita countered, her eyes shining too bright. “I’m twenty-five years old, too old to still believe in fairy tales. And--” Her voice dropped to a rough whisper. “And I can never have him, Maricela. Even if he wanted me, it’s impossible.”

The word should have stung. After all, wasn’t Maricela tangled up in the same impossible situation? In futile, hopeless love with a Rider.

But it didn’t feel hopeless. When she was lying in Ivan’s arms as he slept, tracking his slow, steady breaths by the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek, it didn’t seem impossible. It didn’t even feel possible. It felt inevitable, as if it didn’t matter what happened between them. Loving him was her destiny.

But this wasn’t about her and Ivan. It wasn’t even about Hunter. It was about Nita and what she could stand to do. What she could live with.

“You tease me about being an incurable romantic,” Maricela whispered. “But you’re even worse than I am. And you might be able to accept making yourself miserable, but doing it to Alexei would break your heart all over again.”

Nita looked away and began to stack the bowls. “They’re only stories, you know. The tales of knights and ladies, all that pining love. It’s not real. Or maybe it’s just not real for people like us.”

Apparently, calm arguments weren’t going to get her anywhere. Maricela leaned against the door and took a deep breath. “I’m having an affair with Ivan.”

Nita dropped the bowl she was holding.

It bounced off the edge of the table and crashed to the cement floor, splintering into three pieces. Nita didn’t even seem to notice. She was staring at Maricela, her mouth slightly agape. “You’re--”

“Uh-huh.”

Nita snapped her mouth shut and stared for another few seconds before a muffled laugh escaped her. “Oh, saints above. I knew there was something going on, but I thought--I just assumed--”

“That he would never. I know.” Maricela laughed, too. “No one was more surprised than me. Than us.”

Nita clapped her hands together and pressed her fingers to her lips, like she was fighting to hold back a torrent of questions. When Maricela didn’t say anything, her friend lifted both eyebrows and flung her hands aside. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”

She wasn’t sure she could explain the weeks of tension. “We’ve been spending so much time together. I mean, I knew that I was attracted to him, but I didn’t know...” She trailed off.

“That the sex would be hot? No, you knew it would be amazing. How could it not be?” Nita studied her, her brown eyes softening. “You didn’t know it would be more, did you?”

Her heart ached. “It can’t be, can it? I mean, that’s what you were just saying.” What Ivan had been saying. “It’s just this, for as long as it lasts. Unless...”

But the light was already fading from Nita’s eyes. She turned away abruptly and bent to gather the shards of pottery. “Why spoil what it is now by worrying about that?” she said with forced cheer. “It’s about time you had a good lover. Don’t let my gloom get all over you.”

“Nita--” Maricela caught her arm. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how much it might hurt. But I had to find out, do you understand? The only thing that can possibly be worse is not knowing.”

“I know, I know.” Nita sighed and stood. “There’s something I have to tell you. The rumors about Ivan were getting bad when I left.”

A chill seized Maricela. “What kinds of rumors?”

“That he killed Javier for no reason, and Gideon’s going to let him get away with it because he has a blind spot where Ivan’s concerned. And...”

“And?” The chill was quickly being overtaken by anger. “You mean there’s something worse?”

She flinched. “Some people are saying it wasn’t on purpose. That Ivan killed Javier by mistake.”

Maricela automatically opened her mouth to counter the lie, but the words wouldn’t come. There was a reason every Rider prized self-control. The people of Sector One openly embraced the deadly mission of the Riders, and in return, they got that legendary control. Every life taken by a Rider was a life taken with calculated purpose. For the average citizen, killing someone by accident was lamentable, a death that would stain their soul, but it wasn’t murder.

For a Rider to kill someone by accident was something worse than murder. It was sheer savagery, an unforgivable misuse of the tools and training meant to turn them into warriors. And the final fault would lie with Gideon, because the Riders were his. He handpicked the candidates, oversaw the trials, and was responsible not only for every bit of their training, but for their actions, as well.

If people were saying Ivan had lost control, they were really saying that Gideon had lost control.

The implications were so terrible, and on so many levels, that Maricela wanted to deny it instantly--but she couldn’t. Instead, Ivan’s words echoed in her brain.

I didn’t want to kill him.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” she said finally. “If Gideon thought for a second that Ivan was out of control, he wouldn’t let him anywhere near me, much less make him my personal guard.”

“I know,” Nita said quickly. “And no one will say flat out that Gideon’s wrong. But the lost heir resurfacing has dredged up a lot of memories and talk about how the civil war started--specifically about Ivan’s uncles. And about how Gideon overlooked all that when he made Ivan a Rider.”

They thought Gideon had made a mistake. And if he’d made a mistake, then maybe he didn’t have divine authority, after all. “People can be so fickle, can’t they?”

“People can be greedy, selfish, ungrateful assholes.” The pottery shards clattered against the side of her trash can as Nita tossed the remains of the bowl. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. People always talk. Next week it will be something else.”

It was such a lie that Nita couldn’t even hide her skepticism. Maricela groaned and smacked her head against the door. “No, it’s good that you said something. I need to know.” So did Ivan.

So did Gideon.

Nita wiped the dust from her hands before wrapping an arm around Maricela’s waist and pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad you told me,” she said softly. “Make a liar out of me, Maricela. Prove me wrong. If anyone can make a fairy tale come out right, it’s a princess.”